littlemisscloud writes

Plastered Petals

I've been practicing the word 'home'

 in different places 

picking on crimson, folded petals 

with fissured, shaky hands 

I understand

 it's not that easy holding my hand

 now that my ghosts

 are left unchained 

I'm holding out onto little hopes 

while my clouds hunker down, 

awaiting the massacre 

that might occur 

along these boulevards of savage fantasies

 -a.